


Quick Ride

by borntomkehistory



Series: Otabek Altin Week 2017 [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Otabek Altin Week, Travel| Biker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 20:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12490484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borntomkehistory/pseuds/borntomkehistory
Summary: "Let's see how much juice you have left you in..." Otabek finished tightening his helmet. With the keys in the ignition, the bike purred to life like a cat awakening from slumber. He gave the handles a quick turn, listening to the engine go....Otabek Altin Week Day 1: Biker| Travel





	Quick Ride

**Author's Note:**

> My quick submission for Otabek Altin Week day 1. Enjoy!

...

 

"Otabek, we are so proud of you!" His mother and sisters yelled through the phone. Rightfully so, since it was still noisy where he was in the rink.

"Thank you," Otabek said with a heavy heart, putting the phone back against his ear. He was in the locker room, wanting to escape the mass of reporters who wanted to get a comment on his steep lost to JJ who managed to pull through to 3rd place.

He wasn't mad at him. JJ trained harder than anyone he's known through his time of sharing a rink with him in Canada. He was happy for him, though he couldn't shake the sinking feeling of guilt resting on his chest.

"Mama, I want to talk to him!" He heard his second eldest sister reach for the phone.

"Little brother?"

"Hello, Ayana." Otabek greeted. He missed his sisters and his parents. It saddened him that they couldn't fly out to Barcelona for financial reasons, but he knew they were cheering for him in Almaty.

"You did great out there! You should have won bronze though, I'm saying it's rigged." Ayana was always the hot-headed sister, ready to argue with anyone who dared sabotage her little brother's honor. Right now Otabek could picture her turning red in the face with her silky black hair flying in all directions like a mad woman.

That amused him. A small smile forming on his lips in thought, "it's okay, Ayana. I'll just train harder for next year." He could hear the pout in her voice.

His mother told Ayana to ask him when he was coming back home.

"Mom, what's to know when you are coming back home?" Ayana transferred the question.

"I heard her," Otabek said. He shrugged his shoulders. He planned to finish exploring Barcelona before he had to ship his motorcycle back home. Maybe he could find an open road, clear his head a bit before he gets bombarded with the attention from everyone in Almaty.

"I don't know."

"He doesn't know," Ayana repeated. He could hear his mothers disappointment. He was her youngest and the only boy in the family. It pained her to see any of her kids leave, but with Otabek it was different.

"I have to go. I'll call you guys tomorrow."

"Okay, Bye! Stay safe!"

Otabek hung up. Tapping his phone against his chin as he sat for a minute to think. He contemplated going out through the front or sneaking out the back. At least if he went through the back he could change clothes and get his bike from there.

He went over to his locker, turning the combination lock until he heard a click and pulled.

His skin tingled with the longing of wanting to feel the breeze brush against his cheeks.

  
...

 

Otabek's footsteps echoed off the acoustics in the empty garage. He held his helmet underneath his arm. Matte black with a small inscription on the rim that only he could see.

махаббат. Love. It read. A reminder to think of the things that truly mattered in times of distressed.

The keys were removed from his pocket, and with one click the bike beeped, the front lights springing to life in an instant. Otabek smiled, rubbing the seat of his bike. Feeling the leather against the exposed parts of flesh through his fingerless gloves.

Something about the smell of leather and oil made his mind fade into a place of contempt.

With a lift of his leg, he hoisted himself on the bike. The seat that he's broken in through the years of riding fitting on him like the last piece of a puzzle.

"Let's see how much juice you have left you in..." Otabek finished tightening his helmet. With the keys in the ignition, the bike purred to life like a cat awakening from slumber. He gave the handles a quick turn, listening to the engine go.

She was ready to ride.

Otabek expertly steered the bike out of the dimly lit garage, heading for the exit that shined bright due to the sun. He adjusted his shades, nodding to himself and twisting the handles to gain more momentum.

Otabek cannot say if he imagined it or not, but leaving the garage was like a breath of fresh air. The setting sun immediately kissed his face as it was busy turning the usual blue sky into a beautiful pattern of pink, orange, and yellow. He took it all in. He could finally breathe again. It was unlike the stale air inside the rink that was coated with the anxiety of the other skaters all wanting to win the gold medal.

No, this was different. The bike drove down the narrow side street. He could still hear the commotion from the inside of the rink, reporters now piling outside to catch the skaters who no doubt was going out to celebrate. Whether it was clubbing, or out to dinner.

They were free.

At least until when they all returned home to train for next season.

"Hey." Otabek's narrowed eyes turned to the sound of the voice. There, he saw gold medalist, Yuri Plisetsky. Or how Otabek liked to say, his new friend.

Yuri stood back with his hands shoved in the pockets of his coat. His black hood that was pulled over his head making him look much paler than what he actually was. Thought Otabek could not figure out how he escaped the wave of reporters searching for him.

"Let me come with you." Yuri raised his head, his green eyes shining brighter in the lowering light. He emerged from his spot, neither waiting for an answer but climbed on the bike. Wrapping his arms around Otabek's slim waist.

"Look! There's Otabek!" One fangirl cried, that made everyone else turn and flock to him like seagulls.

"And Yuri!" Another squealed. Then as a chorus, the other fangirls screamed as well.

"Hold on," Otabek ordered. Reluctant because he did not come equipped with another helmet since he hadn't expected to ride with someone else.

Flash after flash from their cameras. Otabek did not care if his face was plastered on the Internet, he never saw them anyways. Though he felt insecure with Yuri sitting behind him.

He just rode away, his usual downwards grimace evident on his face.

At every light, he would sneak a peek at the side mirror to make sure Yuri was still alright. He was quiet and behaving uncharacteristically out of character.

They rode in silence.

 

...

 

Before Otabek started his career as a skater, he always dreamed of traveling the world. Since he explored the streets of Almaty in his father's old rusted convertible.

And Otabek never once considered himself a biker, just a person who has a great appreciation for being out on the open road.

Sure he fit the biker criteria with his leather jacket, fingerless gloves, and worn boots. Rest assured, he just enjoyed seeing the dashed white lines on the pavement.

It showed that he was going somewhere, even if he didn't know where that somewhere was.

Otabek parked the bike near an isolated seating area where Otabek and Yuri resided. Taking slow sips from the coffee the picked up prior. Looking off at the hanging lights that made the sidewalks shine.

They've been out for hours now, and surely their coaches were worried about their whereabouts. From the corner of Otabek's eyes, he watched as Yuri peered down at his phone, deflecting incoming calls and messages by putting his phone on silent. Otabek noticed everything.

Like how Yuri was still in his costume from his program. Pink and red flames peaking from the ankles of his training joggers. His hair was still in its braid, now frayed from the wind's assault, and Otabek could see just a slip of the medals' lanyard that rested comfortably around his neck. Yuri hadn't said a word since they left the hotel. But Otabek didn't mind.

He took a bite from his croissant. Taking in the flavors of the carbs he hadn't had in months due to his restrictive diet. This was a night for all of them to indulge.

"You deserved the bronze medal," Yuri said aloud, taking another sip from his coffee cup. He looked over his shoulder, face bored with unreadable emotion.

Otabek shrugged, "JJ deserved it more than me," little resentment laced his words, "congratulations on winning gold." he added.

"Thanks." Yuri played with the hems of his sleeves. Both falling into another comfortable silence.

It was a gorgeous night. The sky was clear with minimum stars, with a beautiful scenery. Otabek noted how nights were different in each country he went too. Nights felt longer in Canada, shorter in America and quiet in China. Otabek could not say how nights felt in Barcelona. Maybe it was because the nights he had experienced here was a night he couldn't describe in simple verbs.

"Are you happy?" Yuri awkwardly shifted in his seat. Not quite used to the idea of having a friend to talk to. Only knowing Otabek for a few days he felt as if he could tell him things he could tell no one else.

His question weighed on Otabek's mind. It was a question more straightforward then him. He's happy he left his family to pursue his dreams, he's happy that he was able to train in different parts of the world, he's happy that he made it to the Grand Prix finals even if he didn't have a medal around his neck to show for it.

Yeah, he's pretty happy. Happy with the choices he's made even if he didn't get what he wanted at the end. He would have to choose to train harder.

But in the sense of the present, he wasn't sure if he was truly happy with himself.

"I don't know." He answered truthfully.

"Are you?" Otabek retorted.

Yuri shrugged. Otabek didn't have to be a mind reader to see that something was troubling the young medalist. He wanted to ask but was unsure of the boundaries in such a fresh relationship.

"If you're not happy just think of the things that matter. Family... Friends," he glanced over at the boy who was staring. Otabek felt his cheeks flush and quickly averted his eyes, "find something that makes you happy."

"Like riding a cool bike?" Yuri wondered his question not really directed to Otabek but to the general public.

The corners of Otabek's mouth twitched, a small smile threatening to appear on his lips, "yeah, like riding a cool bike."

Another silence washed over them, this time Yuri scooting over to rest his head on his shoulder. At first tense with one another, their walls quickly came down. Now understanding each other on an unspeakable bond.

Yuri held his cup firmly in his hands for warmth. He finally knew what nights in Barcelona felt like.

It felt like love.

 

...

 

When they road back to the hotel, it was around 3 am. The lobby had long quieted from its initial excitement, and now bodies strolled in either intoxicated from their night at the nearby bar or sluggish with sleep.

Otabek and Yuri entered the lobby with the stomachs filled with the slight buzz from their coffee. Both felt as if the bittersweet weight lifted from their chests during their time out.

"Thank you." They faced each other, waiting until the other said their good nights. It was a good night. That day Otabek learned that he didn't have to go to a club with acquaintances, but was fine with sharing the road with a good friend.

"I should head to bed. I have an early flight tomorrow." Said Yuri, hands in his pockets.

"Me too." During their time out that's when Otabek decided that it was about time for him to head back home to Almaty.

They lingered for a little while longer, time only passing them by as it waited for their next move. Yuri was tired, requiring a bath, and dying to get out of his uncomfortable clothes.

"I'll see you soon?" Yuri's statement came out as more than a reluctant question. He wanted to keep his relationship with Otabek but was afraid of the distance between them.

"Yes. Maybe you can show me around Russia."

For the first time tonight a smile flashed across Yuri's face. Yeah, he would be happy to show him around Russia if that meant they could keep their friendship.

"Of course. Well, good night."

They shook hands. It was formal but felt appropriate. Yuri disappeared in the elevator, giving a small wave as the elevator doors closed.

Once again Otabek was alone. Just how he liked it. He probably should head back to his room too, but he wanted to do something first.

Loud chatter filled the lobby, followed by the familiar faces of JJ, his fiancé, Leo, and other skaters that made a group outing to the club nearby. The group dispersed, saying their good nights while JJ and his fiancé, Isabella stayed behind.

Otabek walked up to him. Calm, cool, and collected with his helmet hugged underneath his arm.

"Otabek!" JJ greeted him loud and proud, flailing his arm in a hello. He had his signature JJ smirk, one that Otabek knew too well after his time in Canada.

"Congratulations on getting bronze." Otabek offered his hand, almost in a truce.

JJ was taken aback but accepted his hand. Thanking his old friend. He knew all too well about the controversy circulating his extraordinary come up to third place, glad that there was no bad blood between them. He then said his good nights, taking Isabella's hand as they walked to the elevator.

It was time for him to retreat back to his room as well.

 

...

 

Otabek stepped out the shower, a towel around his waist, and a smaller towelette drying his hair. Stray droplets rolled down the croaks of his back, dripping onto the soft carpet.

He changed into a pair of fresh underwear, a plain black shirt, and comfortable joggers. Looking into the mirror to play around with his wet hair.

The night breeze poured into his room, causing the curtains on his balcony door to blow inwards. Otabek's feet took him to the balcony, where they touched the cool cement floor. And still wet, the breeze made a chill travel down Otabek's spine.

His arms leaned against the railing, once again taking in the feeling of the Barcelona night. Tomorrow he would be on his way home to Almaty, calling his mother back prior to tell her the news. She was delighted, and so were his sisters who haven't seen him in months.

The water in his hair dripped onto the railing, making little-wet spots appear.

Even if Otabek didn't win a medal at finals, he could say that he won something more important.

He raised his head to look up at the sky. The sky that looked the same no matter where he traveled. The sky that gave him a feeling of familiarity.

He won the trust of a new friend and the love of his family.

 

...

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I apologize for any slobby writing, I just came up with this on the spot because I never plan for anything... Nevertheless, I'm super excited to participate in Otabek Altin Week. I hope my quick fic did the first prompt justice. Thank you again!


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